


Pale

by KingCrowleysLittlePet_666



Series: Supernatural Reader Inserts (Stories and Drabbles) [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Fluff, Gunshot Wounds, Other, Sister!Reader, wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingCrowleysLittlePet_666/pseuds/KingCrowleysLittlePet_666
Summary: The reader is the half sister of the Winchesters who happened to be there the time when Lady Bevell shot Sam. Sam wasn't the only victim, though. When Bevell kidnapped your brother, you were left to die in the middle of the Men of Letters bunker with a gunshot wound to your stomach. Will Dean make it back in time to save you?Request: So I read your imagine Scars and oh my god my heart! It was so good. So I have a request because I think you'll do amazing at it. Sam and Dean have a younger sister 20 and at the end of season 11 Sam and sister go back to the bunker and lady bevell shoots her in the stomach before she kidnaps sam. So the sister has to survive on her own bleeding out and when Dean finds her, and has to save her. Kind of like the episode Red meat?? Thank you!!!





	Pale

A sour, excruciating pain flooded your stomach like a warm hug. The crimson liquid painted your hands, staining your shirt and fingerprints. The sound of your brother’s weak protests and calls of your name filled the Men of Letters bunker until the boom of the heavy metal door filled your ears.

Mostly, you were in shock, the images of the British woman holding up the gun to you and Sam filling your mind. Then it all faded, the sound of the gunshot filling your head again. It still made your ears ring. 

The British Men of Letters? What a poison. For people who were supposed to have a reputation for saving humans, they really didn’t look like they were trying to save you and your brother. As you laid on the floor for, what felt like, an eternity of pain, you tried to find any type of motivation to move. To help yourself. To stop yourself from dying in the middle of your own house. 

Sam. Sam. Gotta save Sam. He could be dead. Gotta save your brother. That’s what Dean would do, anyway. 

Glancing down, you could see the blood flowing from the hole that the bullet had entered your stomach from. A slight feeling of panic ran through you as you started to push yourself up and off the cold concrete floor you had collapsed on. As you sat up, the pain shot through your entire body, a whimper falling from your quivering lips. You got on your knees to try and use them as leverage to lift yourself up and off the ground. However, as soon as you stood, you felt yourself collapse. You caught yourself on your hands. 

A cough fell from your lips, causing pain to soar through your chest. In your waistband rested the revolver that you adored. Reaching into it, you grabbed it and held it close to your chest. You crawled towards the stairs, using one hand and your knees to make your way over. 

The metal railing felt frozen underneath your clammy touch. You hissed and pulled away, clenching your hand into a feeble fist. Your skin was pale and you began to break out into a sweat. Despite the burning sensation that developed in your hand when it came in contact with the black metal, you tried to pull yourself up the stairs. 

The railing was the only thing that supported you in your efforts to walk up the stairs, pain clenching in your stomach like a hunger. Shallower breaths fell from your lips as black speckles began to fill your vision. The grip on the railing and your gun began to slip, causing you to drop your revolver, the metal clanging against the steps. You grabbed the metal with both hands, knees buckling underneath you. 

You stumbled down the stairs head first, your shoulder catching each of the stairs. Bruises were definitely going to form if you made it out of the bunker alive. You hit the bottom of the stairs with a  _ thud _ , landing on your back. You groaned and whimpered, rolling back and forth slightly, panting. You felt your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you tried to reach for the railing again. 

Half of your vision had vanished and you had little to no strength left within your body. Tears began to flow down your face once you realized how hopeless all of your efforts were. There was no way you were going to get out of the bunker. Blood was everywhere. The concrete floor, the stairs, your hands and clothes. Everywhere. 

“H...e...lp.” You croaked out, reaching for the door before letting your hand drop against the steps. You sobbed lightly. “Help.” Your body shivered as you slowly became limp, breath vanishing from your lungs. 

The cries became more frequent as the idea of death began to settle in. Being a Winchester, you were normally not afraid of the topic of death, but the fact that you were going to die of blood loss after you failed to protect your brother was something you were convinced wasn’t allowed in the family. It showed a sign of weakness and disgust. You were weak. You couldn’t save the one person that had saved you thousands of times. You let Sam down. 

What a pathetic way to die. 

The sound of footsteps broke you from your thoughts. You raised your brows and glanced up the stairs. You vision was down to the size of the tip of a tack. Opening your mouth, you expected to speak, but all you could do was mouth the word ‘help’. Even  _ that _ became too tiring. Soon, you could just stare and shiver, feeling droplets of blood flow out of the corner of your lips. The door opened and it was then that you knew the person who was speaking. 

Dean. 

You began to shake harder, sobbing lightly, wanting to call out to him, but it all felt like so much work. What was he going to think about you letting some British bitch kidnap Sammy? Was he going to be angry? Disappointed? A part of you hoped that he was just going to leave you in the bunker to die while he went to go save his blood brother. 

Dean appeared at the top of the stairs, halting as he saw the sight of your broken body. Behind him, stood a woman. She was blonde, that was all you could make out. You were pretty sure that Dean called out your name as he ran down the stairs, stepping over you and kneeling beside you. You turned your head to him weakly. 

“What happened?” His lips read, but you couldn’t hear his voice. You wanted to, so bad. You wanted to feel the comfort in his words. “Where’s Sam?” 

You coughed up blood, the liquid coating your cheeks. “Took…..’em…” You croaked out, only hearing the hum of your own voice hit your ears. “Save…….ge….t...him.” 

“Oh my God,” Dean mumbled, staring at the bullet wound in your stomach. “Stay with me, (y/n). Please.” He pressed his massive hands down on your stomach. He glanced up at the woman and began to speak words that you could not make out. 

Your vision began to fade, your breathing shallow, and heart rate barely noticable. Your eyelids began to droop, despite your inner protests. Your body just wouldn’t listen, wishing to succumb to the welcoming grasp of death. Dean grasped your jaw with his hand. You opened your eyes. 

“(Y/N), stay with me. Don’t you dare close your eyes.” You couldn’t obey him, though. For once, you had to betray him. Your eyes just wouldn’t listen. “(Y/N). Please. Stay with me kiddo.” 

Without much thought, your eyes closed and you fell unconscious. 

  
  


You awoke, intaking a large gasp of air into your lungs, eyes wide. Your vision was fogged by the bright light that hovered above your head. You cringed and closed your eyes, groaning weakly. 

“Hey, hey,” The gentle voice of your brother appeared beside you. “Stay still, kiddo. You’re alright.” 

Reaching up, slowly, you rubbed your eyes. There he was, Dean, sitting next to you on the bed. You lowered your arms to your sides. 

“I…” You trailed and glanced down at yourself. You were wearing nothing but your bra, bandages wrapped around your midsection. “I’m alive?” 

“Yeah. Thankfully I got back on time.” He mumbled. “You lost a lot of blood. If I was even a minute late…” 

You swallowed and sniffled, running your fingers down your bandage. You shook your head. 

“What happened?” He asked, glancing up at you. 

“When Sam and I got back, there was this one chick. This...British bitch that said she was from the British Men of Letters.” 

“British Men of Letters?” 

You nodded. “She said that we have caused so much mayhem. The….the Winchesters have. With Lucifer, Metatron, everything. She shot me when I stepped closer to stop her. Then, when Sam went after her, she shot him and, just….took him.” 

“Took him? He was kidnapped?” 

“Yeah. I...I couldn’t stop her.” 

“(Y/N), stop.” Dean said. 

“It’s my fault.” 

“Did you shoot him?” 

You furrowed your brows and shook your head. “No.” You whispered. 

“Then shut up.” Dean shook his head. He sighed. “I’m just glad you’re alright, kiddo.” He reached down and kissed your forehead. “I can’t lose my little sister.” 

“Even though I’m a pain in the ass?” 

Dean smiled lightly. “Even though you’re a pain in the ass.” 

You chuckled and shook your head. After a couple seconds of silence, you looked at him. “What’re we gonna do about Sam?” 

“Well, I’m gonna go after the bitch that took him.” 

You frowned. “You? Dean, let me come too.” 

“No can do, kiddo. You’re recovering.” 

“Please?” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.” Dean shook his head. 

“De! Please!?” 

“No, (Y/N). I’m not going to tell you again. I’ll call you to give you updates.” 

“But…” 

Dean walked over to you and gave you a gentle hug. You sighed. Knowing that you wouldn’t win the battle, you wrapped your arms around him. 

“Don’t be stupid, Dean.” You told him. 

“I won’t.” He chuckled and stood. “I’m glad you’re alive, kiddo. You keep Sammy and I in line.” 

“And I will for many years to come.” 

“You better.” Dean said before he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. 

All you could do was lay in your bed, looking at the phone, waiting anxiously for any type of message from your brother. 

Who were you kidding? 

An hour after Dean left the house, you stood up and got yourself dressed, grabbing a bottle of water before you got into your own car. Drinking the liquid to keep yourself awake and hydrated, you started the car, leaving the bunker with determination written on your face. 

No one messed with the Winchesters and got away with it. 


End file.
